I was pretty sure I was there to see Kesha and Rae Sremmurd, but the security presence at the annual Springfest concert left me wondering. Was some foreign dignitary there to hop on stage for a duet of “Timber”? Did I not get a memo about Gov. Charlie Baker coming through to bump to “No Type”? There must be something I was missing, because why else would there be security posted up every 15 feet or so on the floor of the arena?

Maybe, I thought, President Joseph E. Aoun has finally cracked the U.S. News and World Report college rankings once and for all and discovered that authority figures per square yard was directly related to your spot on the list.

But as the concert carried on, I realized that not one of those theories was true. All those security people were there for one reason only: To keep watch over students. The way they were lined up against the fence between the sections on the floor, guarding it like the U.S.-Mexico border, the way they kept steady watch over the zip-tied rows of plastic chairs, the way they kept their nose trained to sniff out any hint of the devil’s lettuce—it was all because of us. They were scowling babysitters, without the tucking-into-bed part.

To an extent, I can understand why the administration wanted such a visible security presence there. College kids plus concerts often equals non-FDA approved levels of alcohol consumption, and when mixed with the classic Kesha ballad “Tik Tok,” Lord only knows what kind of mayhem could have occurred if there was zero oversight.

But to put it simply, it was too much. The concert was still fun, of course, and most people left having enjoyed themselves, but the security presence there made it feel like an intensely chaperoned event. Northeastern is all about empowering its students to be contributors to the adult world, and much of the school’s identity is built around introducing us to being grown-ups. But at Springfest, it was hard to look around and not feel like a kid.

It’s not like the year before was much better. After Tove Lo encouraged everyone to mosh around the stage (which is pretty standard protocol for concerts), security decided to herd us all back into our designated rows. Chance the Rapper sadly gazed out over us, looking visibly bummed. Granted, he had us all throw the chairs aside and rush the stage in no time, but it was still a veritable downer at our school’s marquee event.

There is definitely a tricky line that Northeastern has to straddle. Our parents want us safe, and it’s the school’s responsibility to provide that protection. On the other hand, we are (theoretically) budding young professionals who can handle some fun without the constant presence of authority over our shoulder.

Especially at a private institution, it’s an imperfect science for campus security officials, but that doesn’t mean Northeastern can’t be nudged. They’ve strayed a little too far over that line, and a step back would be much appreciated by much of the student body.

And while I’m here: It would also be appreciated if you stopped forcing us into the rows of ziptied chairs. The music gods did not intend for Rae Sremmurd to be listened to while being politely aligned into formation.